


Boy Oh Boy

by americandy



Category: 21 Jump Street - All Media Types
Genre: Bromance to Romance, Lots of it, M/M, Marijuana, Shower Sex, and drinking, blow jobs for bros, brojobs, there needs to be more for this ship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-30
Updated: 2015-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-27 12:25:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2692922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/americandy/pseuds/americandy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It all started with a meat-cute.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> shout out to imanonlololol for getting my ass in gear with regards to writing part 4 and also for making an amazing video analyzing/featuring Jenko and Zook!! you are a superstar!!!!!

The first time they meet is on the green… Schmidt’s being rude about his attempts at cleanliness (“Q-tipping your ears on the field? Really Brad?”) when six foot five of tall, blond, and handsome collides with his side. He drops his q-tip and the Viking type dude who barreled into him drops a meaty sandwich. He’s polite about it, they both are, trying to pick up the mess they made.

“I dropped my q-tip in your meat, man, I’m sorry,” Jenko says.

“No man, I’m sorry, I got my meat on your q-tip.” Blond and tall says, offering a sparkling white smile. He looks like he could be Thor’s prettier, younger brother.

“We created a new thing, I think,” Jenko responds, unable to stop himself from smiling back. “A meat-q-tip.”

“Yeah!” The guy says, looking away from him for a second before turning his happiness back on Brad like a laser beam. He’s like a human golden retriever or something, it’s kind of insane. “We created a meat-q-tip… Meat-cute?” He adds on.

This is where things get weird. The way this guy smiles… it’s weird. It makes Jenko feel weird, anyway. His chin-length blonde hair blows across his greenish blue eyes and Jenko wants to brush it out of his face like some sort of awful rom-com pre-kiss move.

“Meat-cute,” he repeats, nodding, still smiling. “What’s your name, man?”

“Zook,” he answers jovially, sticking out his hand. “You?”

“Uh, Br… Brad,” he stumbles over the cover name _again,_ just like the first case, as he fits his hand in Zook’s. He wants to chalk it up to unpreparedness, because that’s easier than something like ‘this guy makes my stomach feel like a thousand angry butterfly trapped inside of a jar’.

He doesn’t have a lot of time to think about it though, because then it’s his turn to try out. He and Zook have some kind of crazy connection on the field, and all of a sudden he’s making passes left and right. He’s careful to tackle awful red Mohawk dude and make it seem like it’s all part of the game.

After his trial, Zook runs up to him, laying down solid compliments about his abilities right away. That smile is back on his face, and so it’s back on Jenko’s too. He’s so caught up in Zook that he doesn’t realize Schmidt is hovering awkwardly next to the both of them until Zook’s inviting him to a party at his frat. Apparently, he didn’t see Schmidt there either, because he clumsily extends the invitation to him too late for it to be chill.

Of course he’s gonna go, can’t wait to see you later, catch you at the party, etcetera, and then they’re walking away.

Immediately, Schmidt goes in on his weirdness with Zook.

“Dude, do you know what a meet-cute is? I’m pretty sure he was hitting on you.” At once, it felt like Jenko’s stomach was trying to drop down out of his asshole.

“Um no, he definitely wasn’t, a meat-cute is when a q-tip falls into the meat of a sub sandwich.” His tone was overly defensive for sure, and he would bet a solid hundo that Schmidt could tell.

“Alright man, I’m just saying, google a meet-cute when we get back. M-e-e-t c-u-t-e, not like actual meat.”

\---

Of course it’s the first thing he does when he gets back. He doesn’t even need to type in the full phrase, ‘meet cute’ pops up after only m-e-e. There’s a Wikipedia article listed first, so that’s what he goes with, because Wikipedia is always right.

“ _A meet-cute is a scene in film, television, etc. in which a future romantic couple meets for the first time in a way that is considered adorable, entertaining, or amusing_.”

Wow. Well, it’s not like their little q-tip sandwich routine wasn’t adorable and entertaining and amusing, but future romantic couple? Hello. That’s something else. He sees Zook’s face in his mind crystal clear, the way he was like the dude version of cheerleader gorgeous. His vision blurred as he thought about it all. Yeah, that might be a thing that’s happening.

Getting ready for the party is nerve-wracking, strangely so, and the way Schmidt is throwing barbs at him isn’t helping. The puka shell necklace he always throws on for social shit is kind of like a safety blanket, but his pretend brother nixes it real quick: “I’d take that off, man, times are different from when you didn’t go to college.”

He decides against following Schmidt’s advice, decides he’s just being a Negative Nate because he doesn’t have an in with the potential suspects. He needs the power of the puka tonight for several reasons: continuing the vibe he’s got going on with the guys, managing the way Schmidt’s being a standoffish douche to them, and keeping his chill around a certain dude in particular, especially if he was going to get as drunk as he’s imagining.

Here comes nothing, or here goes trouble, or whatever that phrase is.

\---

The frat house is packed, the booze is flowing, and the second Zook spots Jenko he comes running up to him.

“Brad!” He literally exclaims, like they’ve just been reunited after years and years apart. Zook pulls him in for a hug, and his hair is brushing the side of Brad’s face, because he can’t be Jenko when he smells his neck and gets a whiff of something sweet and dark and spicy. He wants to wind his fingers up in Zook’s blond hair and keep him there, smell him until it gets weird for everyone else in the room, because that’s how nice it is. But then Zook is pulling away, and one of his hands lingers on Brad’s waist. The other finds the puka shell necklace.

“Dude, you too?” And Brad drags his eyes away from Zook’s and down to his neck, where he’s got one too, a little lighter in color. He has a strong neck and the way his shoulder muscles disappear under the collar of his shirt makes Brad feel kind of dizzy. He can feel Zook’s fingers on his neck and his waist and still smell his cologne and he’s almost too busy considering all of them to notice the way Zook is waiting for a response, almost.

“Yeah, me too,” he answers, finally, looking at the faint pink in Zook’s cheeks. Then they step apart from each other the whole way, and Zook’s asking if he wants a beer or a shot or a joint.

“I’ll have what you’re having,” he says, following as Zook turns on his heel and leads him away, leaving Schmidt behind. Sometimes you have to prioritize.

The party is absolutely wild, and through the haze of Diplo and weed and vodka, Jenko seriously wishes he had gone to college. He and Zook are together the whole night, ruling at beer pong, matching each other shot for shot, acting as bouncers and tossing out the lames. It feels like they’re the perfect duo, actually.

Some hours later, some shots later, several bong hits later, Schmidt comes and finds him.

“Come on bro, let’s leave, this party is lame,” he says to Jenko, though the party is obviously very not lame.

“No man, you can just crash here tonight!” Right away Zook is ready to keep him by his side, not even acknowledging Schmidt with a glance.

“Are you sure?” Brad asks him, looking back and forth from him to Schmidt.

“Just kidding dude, I think you should leave,” Zook deadpans, and Brad is actually worried for a second, but then Z is throwing back his head and laughing. There’s that neck again. “Of course I’m sure! This might be your future home, brah! Mi casa es su casa, you know?” He throws an arm around Brad’s shoulders to punctuate the statement, and he can smell that neck smell again, and his choice is made.

“Sorry Doug, I’m gonna crash here tonight,” Schmidt’s already rolling his eyes before Brad even finishes talking, but he nods.

“Alright man, see you later, I guess,” he says, and Zook is pulling Brad away the second Doug lets him off his leash. They push their way through the dance floor and make it to the stairs, all still with Zook’s arm around Brad’s neck, and Brad’s arm around Zook’s waist for a counterbalance.

“Bro, I have some hydrochronic up in my room, and I want to share it with you. But like, only you. So we have to sneak upstairs.” Zook leans in real close to tell Brad this news, and his nose brushes against Brad’s ear. As a cop Jenko was horrified, but as a wide-eyed college freshman Brad was _thrilled_. They’re leaning against the stairway now, and each other, but Brad manages to find Zook’s ear anyway.

“I don’t know if you know this, but we’re kind of giants, so sneaking might not be an option,” he says, and Zook laughs raucously, pulling Brad a little closer.

“Let’s go for speed then?” He suggests like a question, his eyebrows raised. Instead of answering, Brad just grabs Zook’s wrist and dashes up the stairs, dragging him a little at first, but then they’re hurtling up them together.

The second floor is empty because it’s off limits to party people, and things feel different now that it’s just the two of them. Brad rubs the back of his neck kind of nervously.

“So where’s your room?” He asks, needing to talk to fill the air with something beside his own stupid tension.

“This is the one!” Zook says, pointing to the most centrally located door, striding up to it, and opening it with a grand gesture. Brad steps in past him, struck instantly by how nice his workout set up is, and how big the room is, and how big his bed is, and how he said he’d be staying with Zook tonight, maybe in that bed?

His new friend kneels by the cabinet beside the bed in question, shielding it from his view. Brad stands by the bench press without a sound until Zook pops up from the cabinet with a jar full of electric green weed and a pretty blown glass pipe, and flops down on the bed.

“Come sit down, Brad, let us schmoke,” he says with a wicked grin. Brad is thankful the bed is so big, because there’s enough room for him to sit comfortably cross legged and still keep a healthy dose of distance between himself and Zook.

“Ah, shit, forgot the grinder,” Zook says, lifting himself heavily up from the bed and going back to the cabinet. “Can you play some music on your phone? I’ve gotta Bluetooth connection on this stereo that we can use.” He gestures with his head in the vague direction of a dresser, but there the stereo is on top of it, as well as a collection of colognes.

“Yeah man, no problem. Hey, don’t take this the wrong way, but which one do you have on tonight?” Zook looks up to see Brad pointing at the collection of bottles lined up in front of the stereo. He closes the cabinet, crosses to the dresser, grabs one, and nestles himself back down onto the bed, closer to Brad than he was before. Like, a lot closer. He throws a bottle to Brad and busies himself with grinding up the weed.

“Euphoria by Calvin Klein. You like it?” He asks, looking up from his task, looking up at Brad through his eyelashes. Good god.

“Yeah dude, when I got here, you hugged me and I was like whaaaaat? This guy smells like sex fruit.” Brad hopes he’s not crossing a line by saying shit like that, but Zook snorts and his fears are assuaged.

“Funny you should say that, it’s pomegranate based, and the guys who wore togas thought pomegranates were like literally sex fruit. An aphrodisiac.” He’s packing the bowl of the pipe expertly as he explains, and Brad thinks he could listen to Zook talk about shit like this for a hundred years.

“Wait, what’s an aphrodisiac? Sex fruit? Is that a real thing?” He asks. Zook finishes packing the bowl and sits up, crossing his legs like Brad. He sets the pipe in his lap but hands Brad the jar of weed.

“Smell this shit really quick, okay? Candy Jack is such a sweet lover.” He pauses, and Brad unscrews the lid, and he starts answering his questions.

“Nah, aphrodisiac can be fruit, but it’s really just like anything that’s natural that makes humans wanna fuck. Like, I’m pretty sure oysters are on the list.” Brad smelled the weed as Zook explained aphrodisiacs to him patiently; instead of like he wanted to punch him in the face for being stupid, the way Schmidt did almost all the time. It was sweet, and he got a little giddy about getting high.

“This is some loud shit, my friend,” he said, winding the lid back onto the jar. “And mad props to you for knowing so much about like… the science of getting pussy. Incredible.”

Zook doesn’t meet Brad’s eyes for a second but then he does.

“Sure, if that’s what you’re into. Just a ‘romantic’ sounds a lot better though. Are you gonna play music muchacho?” Whoa whoa whoa. If that’s what you’re into? What the hell is that supposed to mean?

“Uhhhh, I’m having trouble deciding, man. What do you mean a romantic? You can _be_ romantic, you can’t _be a_ romantic. Why don’t you pick the beats and lemme hit that pipe?” He said a thousand things at once. Zook snorted, handed him the pipe and a lighter, and grabbed his phone from the nightstand.

“Romantic like finding beauty in everything, bro. Didn’t you have to watch Dead Poets Society in high school? Also, do you want something groovy or techno or trap or… country? You don’t seem like you’d like country. I don’t like country.” The way Zook also said a thousand things made Brad feel less clumsy about his words. He brought the icy blue and silver pipe up to his lips and lit the bowl, taking a pretty big hit. The exhale was easy though, because it always is. The pipe is rolling, so he hands it over to Zook.

“No, I’ve never seen Dead Poems Society. I don’t like country either though. I actually can’t believe the freaky connection we have, dude.” Brad watched Zook take a hit, a really fucking big hit, tip his head back, and exhale a gigantic cloud of milky smoke. “Nice,” he commented.

“Yeah, we’re on the same wavelength for sure,” Zook said when he came back down to earth from his hit. “Do you wanna see if we have the same lung capacity? We’re the same height, so like we actually might.” Brad raised his eyebrows.

“How do we do that? I bet we do, I bet you fifty bucks that we do.” Brad felt like he absolutely needed to know if they had the same sized lungs. Zook scooted a little closer, and then launched into an explanation.

“Well, I take a hit, like, the biggest one I possibly can, until my lungs are at full capacity, and then I blow the smoke into your mouth and you breathe it in and see if you can take it all. I’m not gonna be surprised if you can’t, I’m pretty good at toking.” He breezed through it so quickly that it took Brad a second to register the ‘I blow the smoke into your mouth’ portion.

“Wait, I have to try to catch the smoke from your mouth? Won’t it fly away before I can suck it all up?”

Zook laughed loud at his line of questioning.

“No man, you get close enough that it has nowhere to go but straight from me to you.”

That makes sense, really. Why not bond more with Zook and see if they do indeed have the same sized lungs? He nodded in agreement.

“Let’s do it, bro. Let’s see if we’re lung twins.”

“Alright, I’m gonna take this hit!” Zook was jazzed about what they were about to do. He brought his piece to his lips, lit the bowl, and sucked in slow, letting the cherry glow bright orange. It seemed like at least three minutes long, and Brad was worried for what his lungs were about to go through.

Finally, Zook put the piece between his legs and smiled. He leaned up really close to Brad now, closer than they’ve ever been, so much so that Brad leans back and uses his palms for support. Zook looks at him weirdly for a second, like why are you backing up man, but then he’s coming in close like he was at first. With nowhere left to go, Brad just stays leaned back, and Zook’s chest rubs against his, and he’s a centimeter away from kissing Brad. He closes his eyes, waits for the impact, but when he doesn’t feel a pair of lips on his own, he opens them again. Zook is looking at him strangely again, with a goofy smile. Slowly, he purses his lips, and starts to blow smoke out. Brad remembers his role in all of this, and he opens his mouth just so, and starts inhaling.

The moment lasts a lifetime, and it seems like Zook’s lips are a phantom above his own, like they’re so close to brushing you might as well call it a kiss. Zook’s eyes are almost closed, and his eyelashes are long and dark against his cheek. As Brad inhales and his ribcage expands, their chests press together fully, and then all he can feel is how warm Zook is.

Then it’s over, and Zook leans back, already hooting and hollering.

“Yeah man! Lung twins!” He holds his hands up in the air for Brad to high-five. As he blows the ghost of the hit out and away, he gives Zook the double high-five he’s waiting for.

“Sweet dude! I bet our breathing is like super zen or something and that’s why we play so well together on the field.” Zook nods in agreement, like Brad is a genius and what he’s just said is a fact.

The rest of the night goes by in a haze of smoke and music, and before they pass out, Zook lends him shorts and a tank to wear for bed. Sometime around six in the morning they lay tip to toe on Zook’s king-sized mattress, cuddled in blankets with the jar of Candy Jack resting between them.

When Jenko comes to, the sun is blinding through the window, and there’s a hand resting on his back. Brad’s back. He slowly turns around to come face to face with a peaced out Zook, his mouth slightly open and his other hand under the pillow he must have pulled with him to Brad’s end of the bed.

What an odd thing to wake up to… Why did Zook flip so they were laying together? Maybe he just did it in his sleep, thinking he had a girl in his bed. Maybe. Brad tried to slip up out from Zook’s hand when Zook stirred, cracking open an eye. Upon seeing Brad, his face split into that same smile.

“Hey man,” he said in the best and worst raspy morning voice. Brad needed to go, quick.

“Hey dude. I’ve got class, shoot me a text later,” he said, getting up out of the bed, finding one of his shoes right away and then starting the search for the second. Zook sat up, letting the sheets pool around his waist, and Brad saw that he’d taken his shirt off. Christ on a bike. He had some really nice golden skin.

“I had a good time last night, Brad,” he said earnestly, running a hand through his hair, trying to shift it to one side and push it behind his ear. Having found his other shoe, Brad was ready to go.

“Me too, man,” he said with a smile, before turning to leave. He needed to get out of there quick… shut the door on Zook quick.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I care too much about these dudes... I spent like 4 days writing porn. Also, the title is supposed to be the Diplo song of the same name, which is on the 22 Jump Street soundtrack, and is an awesome 'Zook and Brad/Jenko are gonna bang' song. Give it a listen.

From then on, they pretty much only hang out when Rooster’s there too. They play study drinking games together more than once a week, work out constantly, and connect on the field at practice. All at once, Zook is right in the middle of his life. It feels kind of like they’re the same person twice over, like those twins across the hall in the dorm.

 After asking Schmidt to investigate separate people, things change. Brad moves into the frat and they move a bed for him into Zook’s room, managing to find the space by making the workout area a little more cramped.

 The first night he moves in they throw a party for him and everyone comes. Everyone. The place is popping but Brad’s really only hanging out with mostly Zook and sometimes Rooster, when he’s not sifting through the crowd trying to find a girl drunk enough to not care about his shit personality.

 The kitchen is off limits to anyone outside the frat ‘cause that’s where they’re keeping the liquor, and the bottles cover the entire dining table. Brad and Zook head back there to get new brews and find themselves alone in there, the rest of the brothers occupied with the party.

 Zook’s in the midst of digging through the fridge when he sticks his head out to look at Brad, who’s looking through the massive collection of liquor on the table.

 “Hey man, you’re taking that human sexuality class, right?” Zook asks, and Brad turns around.

 “Uh, yeah, I needed the credit. Why?” Zook shuts the fridge and comes over to him with two Heinekens in hand. He hands Brad one of them and opens his own on the corner of the table. He takes a sip before answering.

 “Well… I was wondering if wanting to kiss a dude makes me gay.”

 Not at all what Brad was expecting, he drops the beer and it shatters into a wet mess on the floor.

 “Don’t freak out, dude! It’s 2014.” Zook says while Brad hunts down paper towels. After finding a roll tucked under the sink, he starts cleaning his mess up.

 “I’m totally not, man,” he begins. Because he’s not. Surprised is a better word. “It could mean you’re gay…” Zook made a little face so Brad continued. “Or it could mean that you’re bisexual, or it could mean you’re heteroflexible, or it could be a fluke. It’s 2014, don’t freak out.” He says with a smile, standing up from the slightly less messy mess. He finds Malibu somewhere in the middle of the forest of bottles and takes a pull on it before handing it off to Zook. Zook trades his beer for the rum, and takes a pull too.

 “I’m not freaking out, man, it’s just that… He’s here tonight. And I’m drunk. And I want to do a gay thing.” Zook speaks nonchalantly and it makes Brad feel like he’s in a dream, because he’s definitely had this dream before. He takes a sip of Zook’s beer before exchanging it for the Malibu again.

 “Um, I’m not sure that’s a super good idea, dude. It’s 2014 but we’re also in the middle of a frat house. Have you wanted to do a gay thing before?” It was so queer (using the real definition of the word, not the slur, obviously) talking to Zook like this, but he felt like the smart one for once, being able to use something he learned in class in his real life… Brad’s real life.

 He sits down at one of the chairs at the table and takes another drink of Malibu. It smells like Sharpie but it goes down as easy as Hawaiian Punch. Zook sits down at the table too, in the chair next to Brad’s.

 “You think I’d get shit if someone saw me? I could get them kicked out for discrimination, bro. One of the main laws of being a man is that you don’t have to take shit from anyone.” He takes a long gulp of his beer. “I haven’t like… done a gay thing before, but I’ve thought about it, and like… researched it. You know.” Zook said, wiggling his eyebrows a little at Brad, who’s very nice and tipsy now. He lets out a laugh at Zook’s lewdness.

 “Call me Doctor McQuaid, dude, because I’m diagnosing you bicurious.” Zook smiles and looks like he wants to say something, but instead he reaches for the Malibu, and takes Brad’s fingers off of it with his own. Brad can feel the way Zook touches his fingers, and that’s no good, so he grabs another bottle off the table. Bailey’s. Fucking Bailey’s. He spins the top off and Zook holds the Malibu out. They clink handles and drink at the same time.

 “Okay, okay, okay,” Zook repeats, slurring a little bit. “So I’m bicurious, Doctor McQuaid, that’s great. But,” he pauses and pokes his pointer finger into Brad’s chest. “What are you?” His hand hovers above Brad’s pecs for a beat after he asks, but then he’s pulling it back into his lap.

 It’s not something Brad’s considered, to be real. Girls have been just fine, getting pussy is like his second favorite sport to play, whatever. But then he met Zook, and some doors have kind of opened.

 “I haven’t really like… I don’t know. I haven’t done ‘research’,” he does air quotes the best he can with the Bailey’s in one of his hands and Zook does what could be called a giggle. It’s pretty fucking cute. “I haven’t done research, but there are just some dudes who I would not say no to. You could say I’ve thought about it.” He doesn’t look Zook in the eyes but he lays eyes on him when he puts the Malibu down on the table and buries his face between his hands.

 “Jesus Christ,” Brad hears Zook say, muffled behind his hands.

 “What’s going on in here, dudes?” Rooster’s voice booms as he strides into the kitchen, breaking whatever the moment was, or what it was about to be. He comes to stop right between Zook and Brad, apparently searching the table for something specific. Zook doesn’t say anything, doesn’t take his face out of his hands, so Brad covers.

“Uh, just getting wasted, bro. What are you up to?”

 “Just gotta grab some Henny! Party hearty!” Rooster scoops up a bottle from the table and is out the door just as quick as he came in. Zook rubs his hands over his eyes and then looks at Brad with something new in his eye.

 “If we’re gonna talk about shit like this, we should go upstairs,” Zook says as he stands up.

 “I thought it was 2014 and you didn’t care and were gonna get motherfuckers kicked out for discrimination?” Brad teases as he gets up too. Zook doesn’t even bother with a comeback because Brad’s already trailing behind him as they go to their room.

 Without saying it, they both decide to sit on Zook’s bed. There’s a moment of silence where they just look at each other before Zook interrupts it.

 “We should probably smoke,” he says, already going to the nightstand.

 “Probably,” Brad echoes from the bed. Zook grabs the pipe and jar of weed and remembers the grinder this time, and he’s back on the bed in a hot second.

 “So, some dudes? Like who?” He asks as he works on grinding the weed, focusing on that and not on Brad. It’s better that Zook isn’t looking at him though, or else he might throw up, or throw up the words ‘You man! You’re at the top of the goddamn list’.

 “You know, Brad Pitt and Johnny Depp, the obvious ones. And probably Thor.” At the last part of his sentence, Zook’s head shoots up.

 “I was Thor for Halloween last year,” he says and then bites his bottom lip. Brad wants to die and make out with him and punch him square in the jaw.

 “That’s funny,” Brad says, because he doesn’t know what else to say. Zook holds his gaze for a second and then gets back to business with the bowl and the weed.

 “Yeah. Not as funny as me playing football ‘cause I’m surrounded by my type all day, though.” Zook glances up at him to see his reaction, which is a mix between happy and mystified. He finishes packing the bowl quickly, and takes the first hit.

 “Are you serious? You play football for the beefy dudes? Really?” Zook nods and hands the pipe to Brad, who takes his own hit. He watches as Zook drops his head back and lets all of the smoke go in a cloud above him, just like he likes.

 “Yeah, I have more of a track and field sort of body, anyway. Like, you are in… perfect football shape. Perfect. I’m just kind of a noodley guy.” Zook’s eyes travel slowly down from Brad’s face to the buttons in a line down the middle of his oxford.

“No, you’re like a lean machine, dude. You’re in perfect shape.” Zook looks back up at him at this compliment, and he smiles at Brad.

 “Perfect shape for what? Football, long distance running, basketball, what?” He asks.

 “I don’t know, man. Perfect shape to be attractive.” Brad says with a sigh. He’s going full homo on Zook. There would be no turning back from this point in their friendship now.

 He doesn’t really have to worry, though, because then Zook’s hand that’s not holding the pipe is on his thigh and he’s thanking him for the compliment. Brad stares hard at those long fingers around his muscle, and decides he’s allowed to want this.

 “Hey, let’s try the smoke thing the other way. Let’s see if you can handle my biggest breath.” He says to Zook, who moves his hand down Brad’s leg the tiniest bit at the suggestion.

 “Okay,” he says, without hesitation. Brad plucks the pipe from his hand and the lighter from beside his leg. When he flicks it, and the flame bursts, it feels like that could be what’s going on inside his body. He brings the pipe to his lips, lights the bowl, and starts the process. Zook watches him so hard that Brad wonders when the last time he blinked was. He takes his hand from Brad’s leg in preparation for however they’re gonna arrange themselves to do this.

 His inhale feels at least as long as Zook’s is, if not longer. He puts the pipe down on the bed next to him and freezes. Zook looks so good sitting in front of him, waiting for this, for him, and the weed is starting to hit him hard. He leans forward, takes Zook’s jaw in his hand, and leans in as close as Zook did the first time they did this. Zook’s stubble feels so different under Brad’s fingers that it kind of psychs him out, but then Zook’s eyes are closing and his mouth is dropping open, and Brad just lets go.

 He starts giving his smoke to Zook, who takes it all with dedication.

 He can’t help himself, he wants to feel more of Zook, so he brings his other hand up to the other side of Zook’s face, and closes the tiny distance between their lips. Zook reacts right away, opening his eyes in shock while bringing one of his hands to rest on the crook of Brad’s neck.

 The smoke is gone and Brad doesn’t have anything left to give and he doesn’t want to stop feeling the press of their lips, but then Zook pulls back. He lets the smoke go just out of the direction of Brad’s face, and then adjusts so he’s right back where he was.

 “Lung twins,” he whispers, before kissing Brad.

He likes it more when Zook kisses him, because Zook kisses like he wants to lay it all out right now. He moves one of his hands from the side of Zook’s face to the back of his head, to that blonde hair, which is really too soft.

He winds his fingers into it, and Zook’s lips divide for him, like that was magic switch that opened the trap door or something. He licks into Zook’s mouth, feels the sharp edge of his white picket fence perfect teeth.

Zook’s other hand is on his back, his shoulders, but then it drifts low, to the small of his back. He finds the hem of Brad’s shirt and slides his fingers beneath. It’s _so fucking nice_ , but all he can taste is weed ash, and he knows Zook must as well. It takes him out of the moment, and he stops moving against Zook, who notices right away.

“Dude, is this not what you want? That’s cool, but I’m just… I thought…” He trails off and presses a kiss to the corner of Brad’s mouth anyway. The little brush of pre-beard and the way his lips are soft makes Brad think about the other ways Zook would be sweet, with his dick down Brad’s throat or maybe his thighs spread easy and open, waiting. He wants to Do It All to Zook, with Zook, and that gives him an idea.

“No, man, I definitely want this. I am so down. I am down as far as I could possibly go, dude. Like seventh circle of hell all the way down. I want to _go_ down on you.” Zook closes his eyes and swallows hard at the mention of fellatio. “I was just wondering if maybe you wanted to actually do a gay thing?”

Zook’s eyes fly open and he snorts at Brad.

“We kind of are,” he says, taking his hands from under Brad’s shirt and placing them on either side of his face; pulling him in for another quick kiss. This variety drive Brad kind of crazy, because it’s like Zook is all up in his space pressing and folding into him, and then gone too soon.

“This is a gay thing,” he says against Brad’s lips.

“Well yeah, but,” Brad marks every word with a kiss, and the blush in Zook’s cheeks makes him want to implode. “But I was wondering if you wanted to go somewhere… for boys. Where we can dance like they are downstairs.”

This takes Zook by surprise, and he disengages from Brad, leans back, and runs a hand through his hair.

“Bro, don’t take this the wrong way, but we’re already in my bed, and I’m kind of like… I just want to keep you here. But if you’re dying to go we can for sure for sure.”

That’s really all Brad needs to hear, the weed taste isn’t that bad _really_ , and they can go some other time. He kisses Zook hard instead of responding, and Zook’s hands are back on his waist, hiking his shirt up.

“Fuck shirts, dude,” Zook whispers when they have to part to breathe, and then he lets out a wild laugh and grabs Brad’s shirt by either side of his collar, and rips it open. The buttons scatter to the floor, and Zook’s hands are all over his chest and abs, feeling the muscles he likes so much. The power of the gesture makes Brad acutely aware of how hard he is for Zook, like to the point that pants are also starting to be an issue.

“Fuck me,” Zook says as he pushes the shirt down off of Brad’s shoulders, revealing his stupid massive arms. “You’re fucking perfect, man.”

It’s Zook’s turn now, and Brad grabs his t-shirt by the hem and pulls it up until Zook has to take his hands away from Brad in order to get the shirt up off his head. The second his hands are free, Zook wraps an arm around Brad’s neck and pulls him close, kissing him slow and wet. They press flush together, and hey, Zook is pretty hard too. In one quick move, Brad turns the both of them and pushes Zook back down into the pillows.

Immediately, Zook tries to get back up, not quite saying words of protest so much as making noises of it. Brad holds him down by his shoulders, grinning.

“I didn’t get a chance to look at you, dude,” he says, and then Zook stops fighting against his grip and he fucking bites his lower lip, thank you Jesus.

He and Zook might be the same height but he’s so much leaner than Brad, and he has a skinnier torso, so Brad’s hands look gigantic as they casually make their way down from his shoulders.

“You’re a total ten… I swear to god, I look at you all the time, but like, actually getting to put my hands on you is so better. Such better… much better?” Brad trails off as he bends down to run his mouth along Zook’s trapezius muscle. Zook touches him gently now, tickling his ribcage with his fingertips. Zook’s arms come and circle around his waist and he squeezes Brad for a second.

“Thanks man,” he says. “Can I tell you something crazy?” Zook asks just as Brad gives an experimental roll of his hips. At ‘crazy’, his eyes squeeze shut and he drops his head back. Fucking incredible.

“Yeah, tell me something crazy,” Brad whispers as he kisses up Zook’s neck, keeping a slow rotation of his hips going. Zook starts giving it back to him, meeting his hips with an arch of his back, planting his ass more firmly against Brad’s hard-on.

“I,” Zook begins, and then takes a moment, because he really needs it with Brad over him like this, “I’ve laid exactly where I am now,” another pause for Brad’s hands on the button of his khakis, “and jacked off thinking about this exact thing.”

By the grace of god, Brad got his hand down the front of Zook’s pants, and palmed his dick through his Calvin’s. He just felt like he had a porn star dick, Brad really couldn’t wait to see, but he also couldn’t believe that Zook had just said that. He leaned back again, his hands still working.

“Are you serious? You’ve jacked off thinking of me? That’s the hottest fucking thing, dude,” Brad said, and Zook could really see the blush in his cheeks and chest. He reached up and grabbed Brad by the nape of the neck and brought him back down, so they were face to face.

“Yeah, and I came so hard it hit the headboard, aaaaugh,” He confesses, earning a particularly enthusiastic thrust (thus the noise) and Brad’s fingers forgoing the line of his boxer briefs entirely. Brad kisses him now, with abandon, biting at his lip and licking at him, because stroking his hot dick with his bare hand was so much hotter, he wanted to eat Zook alive now, for three square meals a day. He pulls away from Zook’s mouth with a wet smack.

“I do it after we get our pump on, bro. The noises you make are out of this fucking world,” He says, leaning back to undo his own pants. Zook, irritated by the loss of dick action yet placated by the mental image of Brad jerking it, nods without realizing.

“Seriously? I think about the noises _you_ make when we work out!” They laugh, which is fucking weird in the middle of everything, but then they smile at each other like hot and bothered schoolgirls and it’s so sweet that they get back down to business.

The way they do this is exactly like how they are on the field, knowing where the other’s gonna be before he’s there. Zook looked like a straight up model that Brad had somehow tumbled into bed with, and he was _so hot for it_ when he pulled down his Calvin’s and licked his dick unabashedly from balls to tip. Having never done any of this shit, Brad decided to try all of it at once to see if any one part was worse than the other, but it just tasted like skin and the reaction he got from Zook was stellar.

“I can’t believe I’m gonna suck a dick… but I’m glad it’s yours, man,” Brad says before bowing his head again, giving another lick, longer and slower.

“Yeah, uh, I’m… ugh, glad it’s mine too, dude,” Zook replied with a degree of difficulty. Brad pressed a kiss to the inside of his left thigh, and then another, down to his balls, before mouthing at them softly.

Giving a blowjob for the first time is kind of ridiculous but having every single one he’s ever received as a frame of reference is helpful… but also the fact that he knows what feels good on himself, and he and Zook are practically the same. The first time he curls his lips over his teeth and takes Zook’s dick into his mouth, he can taste the little pearl of precum, it’s like vaguely salty and nothing else at all. Not what you’d think it would taste like. One of Zook’s hands is around the back of his head, not pushing or guiding, just there, feeling him work.

“Um, ah, this is great, but can you… can you… be up on your knees too?” The harder it gets for Zook to talk the harder Brad gets. He pulls off of his dick when he hears the question, and the hand on the back of his neck freaks out, tensing, keeping him there for a second, before letting him up more. His hand doesn’t leave Zook’s dick, he keeps stroking him, but slower than he had been when he was using his mouth.

Zook looks like a fucking _mess_ but he doesn’t seem to realize it? His hair is fucked up from rolling his head back into the pillows, his mouth is red now instead of the pink it was an hour before, and one of his hands is clutching the duvet.

“If you’re on your knees, then I can see your ass and back and… I wanna look at your freckles,” He says to Brad sheepishly. It’s so fucking cute that Brad is like… kind of moved? And his hand comes to a stop.

“You noticed my freckles?” He asks, not super sure why it matters.

“Yeah man, I notice like… everything about you. We gotta be in sync, bro, so I have to be up on your shit and you have to be up on mine.” Wow. What an answer. Brad feels emotional for a fucking second (like how did he meet such a solid dude on assignment?) but instead of saying weird shit about it, he gets up on his knees, and sticks his ass in the air. Zook’s dick literally twitches in his hand, and he smiles and bows his head.

“I can’t wait to see what you look like when you come,” he says before taking Zook in deeper than ever, thankful for his weak gag reflex. Zook is pretty lengthy but Brad can almost touch his nose to the hair at the base of his dick. Brad’s eyes are watering, but Zook’s legs circle around his chest and squeeze, like he would do anything to keep him there.

“You’re…” Zook starts, and Brad pulls back a little so he can make eye contact, leaving the head of Zook’s dick resting in his mouth. “You’re gonna find out,” Zook finishes saying, and rolls his head back and arches his chest, because Brad takes him down The Whole Way, with his nose buried in his neatly trimmed patch of pubic hair.

He thinks back to the high school sting for a second, how Schmidt couldn’t make him puke after Eric made them take the drugs. He hated his inability to have his uvula prodded into vomiting on that day, but today he was thankful, because Zook called out recklessly then, “FUCK,” like they do when they’re working out.

Brad takes Zook almost all the way out of his mouth and then takes him all again, and it happens _again_ , “JESus,” with half of the loudness. Immediately Brad thinks about fucking Zook, making him call out _exactly_ like he does when they work out… What he wants to do is work Zook out. He takes a hand from where it had been bracing one of Zook’s thighs and starts stroking his own dick, imagining the athleticism of how they were gonna fuck.

He gets into a rhythm on Zook and himself, and for like thirty seconds it’s nothing but the sounds of what Brad is doing to him, both the wet anti-swallow noise of his throat and the moans Zook is letting loose as Brad takes him in deep. From his vantage point, he can see the way Zook’s abs are rippling, the way he’s slowly losing control. He’s so sucked up in the way he can have this affect on Zook that he doesn’t notice that Zook has propped himself up to look down at Brad, and the way he’s completely frozen.

“Are you stroking your cock? You… sucking my dick turns you on that much? You gotta wait, man, let me in there,” He pleads when Brad looks up, and Brad pulls off his dick, leaving the thinnest strand of saliva trailing from his open lips to the flushed head of his dick.

“Well, yeah, dude, but it’s more like… It’s hot that I can make you look like this. Make you hard and make you make noises…” He shivers, closing his eyes for a second, tightening his hand around his own dick. “I can wait if you want me to, dude,” he says with a shaky breath when he finally opens his eyes.

“For me, man, wait for me. I have plans for you.” He says to Brad with dark eyes and shallow breaths… Brad would probably do anything Zook wanted. He withdraws his hand from his dripping dick and it smacks against his belly, and Zook collapses back on the bed. He takes Zook’s dick with both of his hands, curling so tight at the bottom, while going down slow and silky wet and soft over the head.

The noise Zook makes is all he needs, Brad repeats the gesture once, and then a second time, and Zook is pushing back on his shoulders, and he pulls away just in time for Zook’s come to splatter onto his mouth and neck, and a little down his chest. Zook is breathing hard, doing nothing, like a lump of jelly on the bed. Brad feels the wet streak running down his lower lip, and seeing as how it’s already there he might as well, he licks it up to get a taste. Like kind of – kind of -- just faint, almost not even there sour nothing. Not even sour so much as bitter. Like breathing in a gulp of weird flavored air or something.

As soon as Zook’s breath is back, he lets a flood of compliments about Brad loose.

“Did you just lick that up? This might be the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me, dude… you might be the hottest thing that’s ever happened to me. Was that really your first blowjob? Because it was… I just… If that’s your first time I can’t fucking imagine what you’d be like with a little practice under your belt. You’re so fucking hot,” he finally finishes up with. Brad crawls up Zook, careful not to get any of the mess on him. He shouldn’t have worried about it, because then Zook’s arms are looping around him, forcing him to collapse down against Zook’s chest. He laughs when he feels the wetness between himself and Brad.

“We’re gonna have to take a shower,” he says against Brad’s jaw. “D’you want me to do you now or in there?” He asks, and Brad really doesn’t know which sounds better. But damn, shower sex!

“Shower, for sure,” He replies, though Zook sneaks a hand between the both of them anyway. When he circles a hand around Brad, Brad drops his head to Zook’s chest too, in a moment of weakness.

“Can’t wait to get you in there,” Zook says, and Brad finds himself again and surges forward to kiss Zook.

“Me either,” he replies.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey all, I know this has been a long time coming. I wanted to let you know I appreciate all of the words of encouragement you've left for me and the next (and final, maybe, depending on how far I want to take this) part will be up by next week at the latest.

“We gotta get dressed to get to the bathroom. That’s our main issue right now.” Brad and Zook have been on trying to get up out of Zook’s bed for the past 25 minutes, but for some reason they just can’t. It’s definitely not the fact that they can’t stop touching each other that’s stopping them, that’s not it at all. This is definitely not wish fulfillment for both parties involved.

“I don’t wanna get you dressed, dude, I just got you undressed. Can’t we just be fast in the hall?” Brad leans back, away from Zook’s lips, because if they’re going to be talking now they can’t exactly keep kissing. He sits up, and Zook frowns (frowns!) when he does, but he sits up too.

“Like… I’m pretty sure we could be arrested or sued or kicked out or something if anyone came up on us running down the hallway... like we are right now.” His eyes traveled down to Brad’s hard dick, the way its resting against the skin below his belly button, leaving a slick shine when Brad’s torso moves, and then to his own lap, where his dick has decided to join the party again after that blowjob.

“Besides,” Zook continues, “You’re not gonna get much of an argument from me about getting naked with you again. I’ll even make it up to you once we get there.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively and grabs Brad’s wrist, kissing the palm of his open hand. “Alright?”

Brad is a little too whelmed by the words that have just fallen out of Zook’s mouth to respond properly, but he doesn’t protest when Zook gets up out of bed. He crosses the room to his dresser and grabs 2 pairs of swim trunks.

“We’re not… going swimming, right?” He asks, because what a random new direction for their night to take.

Zook laughs at him. “You think I’m thinking about anything but you right now? Naw man, it’ll just seem less gay if we get caught in trunks. We can say we were going to go smoke a bowl in the bathroom. Jamaican showers are kind of a thing here.” He throws one set of trunks to Brad, navy and golden yellow, and pulls his own black pair on.

“Oh,” Brad says, not moving. When he gets turned on like this he gets a little spacey. Zook looks up at him once he’s put his trunks on and smiles when he finds Brad still in the same place. “Need a little help?” He asks, not waiting for an answer before coming back to the bed, grabbing Brad’s ankles and swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He finds the swim trunks from within the comforter on the bed and gets them over Brad’s feet and up his legs with no trouble.

“Stand up,” he directs, and Brad does, putty in his hands at this point. Zook pulls his trunks over the swell of his ass with a little spot of trouble (his hands might not be entirely focused on the task at hand). He takes a step back to look at his handiwork, but it’s not so handy, because Brad’s boner is completely obvious, tenting the front of the swimsuit. Brad would have said something about feeling like a clown, but Zook, the apparent perfectionist he is, moves into Brad’s space again. He reaches below the waistband of the trunks he’d just pulled up, and his fingers circle around Brad, and he’s so hot in Zook’s hand Zook forgets about breathing for a beat. He carefully places the waistband over the head of Brad’s cock, trapping it where it had been up against his belly.

“This is as incognito as we’re gonna get.” He grabs Brad’s hand and leads him to the door.

“We’ll be fast.” He says, and then he swings the door open. They step out into the hallway, and the coast is clear, so far. Zook looks back at Brad to find him biting him lip, eyes kind of glazey.  Not even two feet out the door and Zook has Brad pressed back up against it, kissing him hard like they’re on the other side of it.

 “How gay do you want to get tonight?” Zook asks low and quiet against Brad's ear... his lips are soft but his stubble scratches and the field of difference between them makes Brad aware it seems as though the only thing he's capable of is want. It feels like fucking high tide and he's drowning in it.

"Brad?" Zook says a little louder, pulling away, bringing one of his hands from Brad's back to the side of his face. "How far do you want to go?" Zook asks when he sees Brad's eyes focus on his.

The effect the question has appears in what has to be less than ten seconds... Brad's cheeks grow pink, and then just barely red. Zook smiles wide and leans into Brad, kissing the side of his mouth. Miracles do happen, because Brad answers him.

"Well, you know, I haven't done gay things before. But. I'm kind of just going for it, dude. I’m only like 45 minutes into this and I've already given my first blowjob. Shoot for the moon and you'll land among the stars, you know?" 

Zook considers his words as his hands roam Brad's broad chest. He's tan but the flush is still visible. "Well... what ARE the moon and stars? What's Jupiter? Because I want you to fuck me, but I don't know what planet that belongs on." Brad's hand that had been on Zook's face slides to the back of his neck and tangles into the hair there, gently but insistently pulling their mouths together. His other hand falls from the center of Zook's chest down to the waistband of his swim trunks.

"Are you sure? You don't have to, we don't have to... Have you ever even?

"In order: Yes, I know I don't have to, I know we don't have to, and no I haven't ever even. But. Neither have you. We can be like fucking high school sweethearts or something and lose it to each other."

Brad's body does a very strange thing then: blood rushes to his cheeks, hot like a fever. Somewhere in the general area of his upper torso freaks out, and it's hard to tell if it's his heart or his stomach or an organ in between? His brain is also kind of in crisis mode.  Like, is this ok? He pauses for a second internally, wondering why he’s so _so_ down to plow Zook. Because he's fucking gorgeous, because he's probably a future hall-of-famer, because he wants Brad and Brad doesn't want to deny him anything. Oh, that's why. Thanks brain. 

It'd probably only _kind of_ be a problem if Zook turned out to be related to Whyfy?? Undercovers had to have had relationships with suspects before. And it’s not like the age difference is so bad, thank _god_ this didn’t happen in the high school sting.

 

Going on the dumb luck instinct that's gotten him this far, Brad leans in to Zook slow and precise, kissing him softly. It's different from the way they've been... it's taking a chance. Zook is still for a second before reacting and matching Brad's pace, but he pulls back anyway. "Dude... do you really wanna do it like high school sweethearts? That's what I was kinda going for... tender type shit, you know?" he says, talking fast because he's nervous and embarrassed. It would be impossible to be a bigger gaylord to Zook than he is at that very second. Zook's eyebrows tip up in the middle though and he makes a super dumb noise, a tiny cross between ‘aw’ and what might have been a moan. It’s stupidly adorable. Maybe Brad stood corrected on where he landed on the gaylord scale. 

 

"Oh my god... I meant it like we were both dude virgins, but your definition is so much better." Zook's eyes can't stay on Brad's and seem to keep drifting back down to his lips as he talks. Brad regrets his burst of romanticism then because he can see just how badly Zook wants and marching him back through the hall and tossing him down on his bed and giving it to him is an inescapable compulsion. He seals his mouth over Zook’s again and presses them together from shoulder to thigh, moving so one of his knees was between Zook's own. Zook is radiating heat madly and he licks at Brad's lower lip... they actually make out. Like 16 years old, I'm gonna have to be home soon so let’s make the most of the time we have making out. It's obscene and sweet at the same time... but mostly obscene, and Brad really can't do this forever. He doesn't think Zook can either, not when he finds the wet spot at the fabric just over the tip of his dick. Zook's hips roll into Brad's hand and he thinks it would be a good time to get their asses out of the hallway and back to the bedroom. Their bedroom. 

 

He pulls away from Zook and his mouth is a pretty wreck... slick and wet, open just so at the sudden absence of Brad's. "D’you wanna go back to the bedroom?" he asks fast, barely brushing their lips together as a question mark at the end. 

 

Zook's cheeks are a shade of red not unlike his mouth and it makes his eyes look pale, icy blue in the slivers that show around his wide pupils. The corners of his mouth tip up in a small smile. "Of course, yes, but dude, we have to take a shower first. Y’know… cleanliness.”

 

Brad drops his forehead down onto Zook's shoulder. "Alright man... but then I have to stop touching you. You have to stop touching me.. or else it won't even matter." he tilts his face into Zook's neck, wetting the crux of it and his shoulder with a drag of his mouth. "You turn me into fucking fifteen years old again, dude." then he presses their lips together again, and the result is more of a mess than a kiss, but Brad is really in a state of feeling over finesse.

 

“Tell me about it, dude! I just asked you to be my first! This is some JV shit!” Brad laughs, like really laughs, doubles over laughing. Of course Zook feels the exact same way. It’s good that they have this moment to break the tension because who else could the universe introduce at this point? Fucking Rooster. Of course.

 

“Hey dudes! Came up here to see where you assholes scampered off to… We’re gonna start body shots and the girls are losing their shirts and there’s no time like the present for you to come join us!” He’s gleeful and Brad wants to harm him physically but Zook does the talking instead, telling him the ‘Jamaican shower’ excuse they’d decided on. Rooster looks almost angry, in a way, that they won’t join him on his quest to be a drunken asshole. His eyes narrow at the both of them.

 

“If you’re going to have a Jamaican shower, where’s the weed? Some people wonder about you two dudes,” Rooster says in that unsettling no-biggie kind of way of his. Alarms immediately start going off in Brad’s head, because, um. Multiple reasons. Rooster leans in to the both of them conspiratorially.

” _Someone --_ who one of you was roommates with -- was saying that you guys probably finish up every practice by j-ing each other’s Ds off. Weird, right?” Rooster watches the both of them with a slightly furrowed brow. He’s a surprisingly discerning guy, Brad thinks. Could’ve been a cop. But that’s beside the point. So Schmidt, jealous little shit, has been talking shit about him and Zook.  That’s the angle of defense he decides to go with.

“Dude, you know how fucking weird Doug is.”

“Why is that weird?” Zook asks at the same time. Oh shit! He was serious with his little ‘it’s 2014, motherfuckers’ speech. Rooster’s eyes widen but he does a good job of calming his reaction down pretty fast. “Uh, because, dude. Zook does not just… go homo.” Rooster responds, like _obviously_. Brad looks back and forth from Zook to Rooster until a slow smile spreads across Zook’s face.

“But why? Why couldn’t I just… go homo? ” He slings an arm around Brad’s neck, in a bro way, and Brad crosses his arms, waiting for Rooster to answer. He might be flexing. A little.

Rooster looks at the both of them, the way Zook is smiling, like he’s in on a joke. The way the pink mohawked idiot in front of them was struggling to understand the direction the conversation was heading was actually pretty hilarious. The corner of Brad’s mouth turned up.

“Yeah, why? Does Zook not _seem_ gay to you?” He opened up the door, now it was just up to Rooster to walk through it.

“Duh, dude.” Slam-fucking-dunk! Zook squeezes Brad’s shoulder and drops his arm. Take him to church, dude, he says with his fingertips.

“Oh man, I actually can’t believe you just said that.” Brad starts, mentally cracking his knuckles, getting ready to give Rooster whiplash from the sudden flood of knowledge.

“Why, bro? Does he seem gay to you? Has he started wearing rainbow and sucking dick when I’m not around?”

“Each word that falls out of your mouth gets at least seventy percent worse than the last, I swear to fucking god. Even if he has started sucking dick and wearing rainbow, he still wouldn’t _seem_ gay to me, because sexuality is a spectrum and there’s no obvious tell for homosexuality, dude. There is no gay gene… It’s not like all gay people are left-handed or have freckles or even wear rainbow.”

“Okay, Harvey fucking Milk, why don’t you take a chill pill? I didn’t say anything mean about your boyfriend.”

“Yes, because to take issue with a laundry list of bigotry you totally have to be personally invested. I’m gonna say this and then we’re gonna stop talking about it: if you don’t tune your shit up, we’re gonna have a problem. Just… if you think saying something is a good idea, just don’t. Keep all of your shit thoughts inside of your brain, okay?”

It feels so good to say that to him, it feels like the speech the main character gives at the Moment of Awesome in a movie. He’s smiling, and Rooster’s looking at him like he’s fucking crazy. He looks behind him, over his shoulder at Zook, and finds his tall blond friend already stepping up to him, his left hand circling around Brad’s wrist, the right finding his lower back.

“Come on, dude.”

“Oh SHIT! Is he actually your boyfriend?” Rooster’s eyes are wide where Zook’s fingers move from the sticky-outy bone in his wrist, around the turn of his hand, along his palm. Brad watches Zook’s fingers move too, because he doesn’t know anything about what he’s doing anymore. It’s not their secret alone anymore, Zook decided it wasn’t. Rooster is the biggest fuckface on the face of the earth and he’ll probably tell everyone, probably make posters and signs about it and plaster them all over the frat.

Brad thinks all of these things in the span of .5 seconds, watching Zook’s fingers find his.

“Not yet!” Zook says to Rooster with a joyous laugh, responding to the question he’d left hanging in the air. What a fucking world. Brad decides at that second he doesn’t mind if the  news travels everywhere, doesn’t mind if it gets back to the rest of the frat or the team or Schmidt or even fucking CAPTAIN because Zook is A Catch and he’s saying all the right things and smiling like he wants it and they just need to be alone on a bed again now and preferably forever.

But.

Shower first.

Brad decides to follow Zook’s lead, which consists of not giving even half of a fuck about heterosexual appearances. He’s full of surprises, and its like each one is designed to make Brad like him more than before. Fuck. He leans into Zook’s ear and whispers: “ _Shower time_ ”.

“Well, I can’t wait to see what everyone else has to think about this, dudes.” Rooster says, trying to gain the upper hand in the situation. Zook’s hand comes up around the back of Brad’s neck and he rolls his eyes so hard it looks a little like an aneurysm.

“See if I fucking care what everyone else has to think about this, _dude_ ” He responds, with the nastiest amount of stank on dude humanly possible. “Shower time,” He continues, softer, for Brad. He starts to pull him toward the bathroom, and Brad lets himself be lead.

“They’re gonna love you two dudes jacking it up all over the COMMUNAL bathroom,” Rooster says loud behind them. Neither of them look back, just at each other, both finding it funny.

“We’re not gonna jack it in there!” Brad tells him, because what an idiot. Zook looks kind of sheepish, and he shrugs. Brad understands, and shrugs too.

“Well, we might. We’ll let you know!” He adds on, an addendum to his original statement.

“Actually you’d better fucking not!” Rooster yells indignantly, because they’ve turned the corner down the hall to the bathroom, and thank fucking god he’s not following them because Brad wants to eat Zook alive right in the hallway. He turns to Zook and presses him up against frat brother Michael’s door. Before he can stop them up completely though, Zook moves with an unexpected agility out of his grasp.

“Remember what you said,” he says playfully. “I have to stop touching you, you have to stop touching me, or none of this will matter.” He pauses for a second, mock confused. “And in that sentence ‘none of this’ meant me telling you I want you to fuck me, right?”

“Yes, it one thousand percent did. You’re right though, we gotta get this show on the road. It wouldn’t be a problem if I didn’t want you so bad… but… here we are.” Brad smiles, moves quick up to Zook, running a hand down the curve of his ass. Zook grabs his hand and shoves it away, laughing, breaking into a jog for the short distance to the door of the bathroom.


	4. Chapter 4

Brad waits approximately zero seconds after the door closes to get up on Zook, pressing him up against it. They were doing a lot of door-centric making out tonight… They couldn’t seem to make it any further into a room before getting their hands on each other.

Zook smiles at his eagerness, pressing forward with his hips while his hands roam over Brad’s shoulders and down his chest. He really did have a thing for muscles, _damn_.

“Why don’t you lose the shorts?” Zook asks, cocking his head to the side. His hair falls in his face, brushing over his actually beautiful pink tinged cheekbones. Brad closes his eyes hard for a second before opening them and gently moving the offending strands out of the way. Then he leans in to kiss him deep, letting his hand rest on the back of Zook’s neck.

“Whoa,” Zook whispers against his lips, his eyes barely open. “What was that about?”

Brad sighs, unable to stop touching Zook’s hair, smoothing it down over the back of his head.

“Just you. This is gonna sound gay as hell but literally the first time I met you I thought about brushing your hair out of your eyes like that. Like… exactly.” He tells Zook’s ear this instead of his face because of the level of embarrassment he felt was fucking nuclear.

Zook pushes him back by his shoulders, keeping their hips together, his eyes wide and his eyebrows in a similar state of shock.

“Dude. You were attracted to me the first time we met? We could have been doing this… a long long time ago. Fuck.” Zook’s tone actually genuinely sounds a little upset, and that’s no good, so Brad tries to lean forward again, pressing against Zook’s palms.

“Well… We have time now? A long long time?” He asks his words of reassurance instead of stating them, wondering what the thing to say to soothe this gorgeous Viking prince before him would be. Zook doesn’t hold Brad back, though, letting him give him a kiss to the apple of his cheek.

He looks reproachfully at Brad, through his eyelashes a- _gain._

“You can’t say shit like that if you don’t mean it.” He says, turning his head to the side. Brad combs the hair off of his neck and gives him a line of kisses from jaw to collarbone. He feels Zook responding to it, between the both of them, where they’re pressed together.

“I wouldn’t say shit like that unless I meant it,” Brad says. And really, he says it as Jenko too. The line between the cover identity and his actual self had blurred so badly that the only way they differed was in artificial details. He has to tell Zook the truth, but… not tonight. Shit’s going to hit the fan by tomorrow anyway, with their new openly together-ish status in Rooster’s hands. Schmidt would know by tomorrow, the frat would know by tomorrow, and captain would probably also definitely know by tomorrow. Awesome.

Ignoring the shitstorm that awaited him, Jenko refocused on Zook.

“Like, we have gone from zero to sixty in three point five, as Rihanna would say, but… This thing between us has kind of always been there. I just tried to ignore it,” He says, explaining his feelings to himself as well as Zook.

Zook smiles like he’s trying to hold it in, small and cute as hell.

“But when I started posing all of these theoretical homosituations on you you just couldn’t anymore?” He asks, teasing Brad now. “What if I wasn’t even talking about you, dude? Maybe I wasn’t.” He says defiantly.

“And maybe _you’re full of shit_ ,” Brad says as he snakes a hand between them, running his fingers along the length of Zook’s dick through his trunks. “The first night I stayed over, when we went to bed, we were laying down in opposite directions. When I woke up, you were down by me, with a fucking pillow. You made yourself comfy, Zook Haythe.” He grabbed the waistband of Zook’s trunks, pushing them down his thighs, deeply enjoying the way his dick springs out at a direct ninety degree angle. So _that’s_ one use for geometry outside of the classroom.

“Were you or were you not putting a low-key move on me?” He asks in a low voice, lower than he was expecting, as he steps back up against Zook and starts to stroke him slow, appreciating the way Zook’s ab muscles tighten at first touch. He doesn’t answer, instead rubbing up and down Brad’s lower stomach with his long fingers, watching Brad’s hand work.

It’s really fucking hot but he does have a point to make. He stills his hand just as he’s working over the head of Zook’s dick, running gentle over it with the tips of his fingers, flashing back to the way just his lips and tongue giving it a certain special kind of attention had made Zook lose it.

It works like a charm, Zook’s head jerks up and one of his hands grips Brad’s wrist.

“I asked you a question,” He says, taking in the way Zook’s pupils are fucking _blown_ again, and it requires all of his will-power not to give up this little game he decided to play and eat him alive.

“Um, yeah, what?” Zook asks, breathy and throaty. Now that he has Zook’s attention, he lets his hand continue, but at a devastatingly slow pace compared to the way he had been going. He can see Zook bite the inside of his cheek, and he doesn’t let go of Brad’s wrist.

“I asked if you were putting a move on me that night, or that morning, or whatever.” He has a little trouble getting the sentence out, because Zook picks that moment to touch him too, trailing a hand down the front of Brad’s trunks. Fuck. Zook leans in close to him, to answer against his ear.

He matches Brad’s pace and he fucking twists his wrist and his breath is hot on Brad’s neck and Brad is almost so wrapped up in feeling the way they’re feeling each other that he nearly doesn’t listen. Nearly.

“I was putting low-key moves on you all fucking night, dude.” He pauses to press his open mouth to the skin right below Brad’s ear, scrape his teeth at the skin there. “I fucking shot-gunned smoke like _just barely_ against your lips, and when you didn’t dip after that.” He pauses again, letting go of Brad’s wrist and his dick, pulling his shorts down too, effectively evening the playing field. He exhales hard, and then tips things in his advantage.

Zook brings one of his hands up to his mouth, licks his palm and fingers up and down, and then knocks Brad’s hand off of his dick. The game is basically over at this point because all Brad can do is watch and feel as Zook takes his own cock in hand first, and then nudges his hips forward so he can take Brad’s in against it, and then he closes the circle of his long fucking fingers around the both of them. This is the best kind of friction Brad has _ever_ felt. He could die like this.

“When you didn’t dip after that,” Zook repeats himself, thankfully speaking over a moan that decided to spill out of Brad’s mouth when Zook started to move his hand. “I don’t know, I was high and I felt good vibes and… I don’t know. I wanted to see what would happen in the morning. But then you _did_ dip.” He doesn’t look at Brad when he says it and he sounds legitimately bummed.

Brad tips Zook’s chin up and kisses him open and wet and messy, and they roll against each other to stay in Zook’s hand, and Brad gets goosebumps for some reason. When he pulls away, the sound is _filthy_ and Zook’s mouth hangs open.

“Dude, I just wanna say that’s not gonna happen again,” Brad says, and then he haaaates what he has to say next. “But I do have to step away from you now, ‘cause I’m like… worked the fuck up.”

Zook lets go of them both, and then runs a thumb over the head of Brad’s dick. He brings it up to inspect, finding it shiny and wet with pre-cum, and he fucking smiles. Brad has to back up so they’re not touching at all, and as he does, Zook sticks his thumb in his mouth and hollows his cheeks.

Brad literally has to turn around, rubbing the ridge of his brow with his fingers because _fucking come on_ , but he hears the cartoonish pop of him taking it back out.

“That was hardly a taste at all… I kind of want to blow you instead so I can have the real mccoy, y’know?”

Brad has to stop himself from actually covering his ears and going la-la-la like an actual child.

“Dude, you are doing actually the opposite of helping my situation right now. Just. If it sounds like it could be in porn, don’t say it.” He tries to speak calmly. Keyword being tries.

“Yes sir,” Zook says. “Oh, wait. Whoops. Um, do you want to shower first or should I?”

Brad turns back around to him, kind of not into the idea of showering separately. He finds that Zook is lazily touching himself, which is bad because HE wants to be lazily touching Zook.

“Can you… like… give it a rest?” He asks, and the corner of Zook’s mouth turns up sheepishly, but his hand comes to a stop at the base of his cock. He walks forward to the shower, pushes the glass out of the way, and turns the handle to get the water started.

“Sorry dude, it’s just that your ass is out of this world and also this solar system and also the galaxy. All of the above. But… you first or me?”

That saying about flattery getting you everywhere is at least slightly true because now Brad is wondering about the What-If of them doing this the other way, with Zook fucking him instead. He shakes his head in order to Not Focus on that and answer Zook in a timely manner.

“You should get in first, but like… Don’t be insanely hot about it because I wanna get in with you. But first I’ll just watch, if that’s cool with you?” Brad feels an undercurrent of nervous about everything that they’re doing, which isn’t exactly surprising given he hasn’t so much as dipped a toe into the gay pool up until this point and now he’s diving in headfirst – they are together.

Zook pulls the bottom of the faucet to switch the water flow to the showerhead, but before he gets in he turns and reaches out for Brad, pulling him close by the neck – making sure they don’t touch any more than necessary – and kissing him closed-mouth and quick, leaning back with a smile.

“Of course that’s cool with me. Enjoy the view,” he says with a wink, turning back around to step into the shower. He’s not fast enough though, Brad gives him a swat on the ass.

“You’ve got a mouth on you,” he says as Zook shoots him a look while stepping into the shower.

“Yeah, and you wouldn’t let me use it.” He licks his lips as he stands in the shower, holding one of his hands in the water to test the temp, the other one of his hands wandering back down to his dick. Zook likes a bit of dirty talk, apparently.

Brad takes a few steps back to lean against the counter and really take in the vision that is Zook. He stands with his back to Brad, letting the water run over his head and chest, and the rivers that run from his hair down his back highlight his svelte musculature in a way that is a catch 25 or 27 or whatever. It’s the best because wow, he’s fucking fit, but also the worst, because looking and not touching is seeming like a stupid stupid idea.

Zook reaches up and runs his hands over his face and scalp, pushing his hair back and out of his eyes. The way his shoulders shift with his arms is a damn sight. Brad starts a list of the places he needs to put his mouth on Zook, with his back being the first item. Maybe he would kiss down the ridges between the knobs of his spine. By the grace of a rude god, Zook has _butt dimples_. Two little apostrophes over his ass cheeks. Those are numbers two and three, and they’re gonna get separate and special attention. Brad curls his fingers around his dick, giving himself _some_ sensation, because he can’t look at that – can’t think about that – and retain total self-control.

Then he sees one of Zook’s arms, the way it moves in that familiar repetitive motion, disappearing in the direction of his pelvis again and again. It strikes Brad _hard_ in that moment that this change in their friendship is incredible, fucking marvelous.

Brad thought about what he told Zook, that whatever this was had always been there, only previously ignored. That really was the complete truth. After waking up from the _third_ dream starring his new bud, their best lead, in the room he shared with Schmidt, he started to accept that this was a capital I Issue.

Then Zook turns around, and it’s kind of like that stereotypical moment when the clouds part and a ray of sunlight shines down on a treasure or a castle or a fucking field of wildflowers.

When Zook’s eyes fall on Brad’s occupied hand, he doesn’t bother to stop his own activities. The way his hand moves up and down the curved length of his cock, easy and steady under the stream of the shower, was merely the cherry on top of the visual sundae.

With his hair wet and slicked back, Zook goes hurtling from hot and sexy to downright handsome. Old Hollywood leading man handsome. He was stunning, with pink lips and gold stubble and eyes like that, green and daring.

He quirks his head up at Brad and steps forward, pressing his palm against the steamy glass of the door to the shower.

“You should get in here.”

The way Zook said it instead of asked had Brad indulging himself, moving his formerly static hand at about the same pace Zook was keeping. One, two, three – not wanting to push himself, Brad stops once again and nods.

“Yeah, okay. Scoot over.” He steps up to the pane of the sliding glass shower door and slides it over, hyperaware of Zook’s expectant gaze and the unwavering, slow-but-still-something pace he kept stroking at.

Brad doesn’t ask Zook to stop this time, though. Zook does make him feel like a fucking teenager, but he’s _not_ a fucking teenager. Anything he’s looking at should not be a problem, unless _he_ has problem.

He has to trade places with Zook to get under the flow of water so he reaches out, skimming his hand along the rivulets of water that stream down the side of his body.

“Let me have a turn, dude,” he says.

“Sure thing, man.” Zook responds, stepping aside. He reaches out for Brad, examining the curve of his pec and the ribs and hard muscle that sit directly underneath.

“Worked on this together,” Brad reminds him as he steps back into the water enough to let it run over his shoulders and back. Zook curls the fingers he’s touching Brad with and digs his nails into the skin there, a wide grin on his face.

“Nah, you had this going on when we met. It’s been really cool to help you with upkeep though, dude.” His hand slows down as he says it, like the act has become secondary to the thought. Brad knows he means it, he really is happy to just have been there.

Everything about Zook seems totally real and honest; Jenko feels his stomach twist at the idea that he was the total, complete opposite. Not wanting to let on that something was wrong, Brad smiles.

“You are so fucking sweet to me, bro. Next level.”

Zook lets go of his dick and grabs the bottle of body wash from the shower caddy that has his name on it in small black label maker font. Something about it prompts Brad to ask about his grooming habits.

“Dude, don’t take this the wrong way, but how do you get your hair _so_ goddamn soft? Is it something you do in here?”

Zook starts massaging the soap onto his stomach and chest, working it into a sudsy state. He smiles at the question and Brad feels stupid for asking. Zook adjusts the way he’s standing and reaches between his legs with a handful of bubbles as he answers.

“It’s funny you wanna know, man. It’s funny that you asked, because the answer is coconut oil, right out of the shower. I bet you can’t guess what else I use it for,” he challenges Brad, who’s stumped. Why would he have any idea?

“Lube, dude. It makes my, you know, ‘research’ very easy.” Zook does a 180 degree turn so Brad can see the way his fingers work low between his ass cheeks, illustrating his point. He’s cleaning himself there for what they’re about to get up to and that knowledge has Brad thinking about believing in god. He balls his hands into fists, literally white-knuckling it after hearing Zook say that. After taking a moment to find his inner Chi, he realizes that Zook is holding the body wash out in his direction.

“So, uh, can I do some research with you?” He asks as he grabs it, popping the cap and squeezing some into his palm. Zook’s got himself back in hand before the question is even finished.

“Dude, the second we’re back in our room you’re gonna help me. We’ll do research on each other.” He waggles his eyebrows and any hint of ambiguity in his words dies. Brad hears the joke but he doesn’t laugh, because the gears in his mind are turning and grinding and burning against each other. He starts to soap himself up, first at his neck and traveling downward, moving quickly.

“We have to be done in here now, man. Switch places with me.” He leans back so Zook can go under the spray of the shower again to wash off totally. His eyes scour Brad’s body, following the path of his hands and the white foamy trails they leave behind.

It only takes Zook a matter of seconds to wash off completely, and then it’s Brad’s turn. He and Zook are huge dudes so they have to get extremely close to be under the showerhead at the same time. The space between them is charged and electric, and they almost press their lips together, just like that first shotgun.

Then Zook is reaching down and turning off the water, looking back at Brad with a grin.

“Ready?” He asks, sliding the left panel of the door open.

“I was born ready, man. I was ready before I was born.” He’s talking nonsense at this point, horny sex-brain nonsense. Zook doesn’t seem to mind; he grabs Brad’s hand and drags the both of them out of the shower. He picks up their trunks, throwing the pair he had been wearing to Brad, hastily pulling the others on himself.

“I was ready for this in a past life, dude.” He pulls open the bathroom door and steam pours out. The hallway is deserted so they make a mad dash to their bedroom while it stays that way.

Coming up on their door, they found a shit quality written-in-sharpie sign hanging there. It reads ‘Mr. and Mr. Haythe’ and has a watermarked stock image photo of gay groom cake toppers. Brad feels his blood pressure rise, and a wild anger bubbling up. Motherfucking Rooster… that guy is gonna get stomped.

“I want to go find him and break his teeth, Zook,” he says, reaching out to grab a corner of the sign to tear it down. Zook stops him.

“Who the fuck cares, man? We _are_ about to fuck like two Christian kids who had been saving themselves for marriage.”

The mouth on this guy! Forgetting the sign in front of him immediately, Brad opens their door and shoves Zook inside. He steps out of his trunks and then yanks Zook’s down.

“So where is this coconut oil, hm?” He asks, and Zook throws himself down onto his bed, crawling up enough so that he can reach the nightstand. The place where his thighs meet the swell of his ass is gonna be number four on that list. Zook grabs a jar off of his nightstand. The same jar that had been there since forever, that Brad had thought nothing of.

Zook turns around, settling on his pillows far up on the bed. He sits with his legs open, his thighs spread perfect _just_ for Brad. He unscrews the lid off of the jar and dips two fingers in. He trails them up the inside of his leg, and then looks up at Brad.

“Do you wanna get me started or should I?” He asks, moving his fingers toward himself. His wet hair is slicked back and his eyes are bright and the head of his dick is flushed red. Unable to help himself, Brad jumps onto the bed, landing almost perfectly between Zook’s legs.

“Me, I should get you started, definitely me.” He says, putting a hand on either of Zook’s thighs, spreading out his fingers and feeling the soft hair beneath them. He hooks one of his hands under Zook’s knee and plants a kiss about halfway between it and his hip. He’s spent more time this night between Zook’s legs than doing anything else and he can’t say that he minds? It’s kind of a great place to be.

Brad moves up the inside of Zook’s leg, dragging his mouth, leaving a roadmap in saliva. He uses the hand under Zook’s knee to pull his legs apart more, until they are wide open, and Zook lets him. He continues moving his lips up the soft middle of his inner thigh, covering the new skin he’s exposed.

Zook reacts more intensively the closer Brad gets to his direct middle. He feels the goosebumps he’s causing under his lips before he actually sees them. It’s a little twilight zone to be staring this part of Zook down, but really, the little curl of skin is no more or less offensive than anything else they’ve been doing. It _feels_ different though, because this is the first time Zook has had someone here.

Fuck. It is heaven on earth to have this spectacularly attractive dude spread out like this, just for him, and before he can really consider what he’s doing, he leans in and glances his mouth over it. Zook doesn’t taste like anything but the body wash and it feels anticlimactic but then a moan _rips_ through Zook.

“Oh, fuck, dude… I was not expecting that at all.” He sounds like he’s just seen bigfoot or something. Brad does it again, this time just to the left of Zook’s hole. He kind of can’t believe that such a small brush of his lips can make Zook freak out like that. Now that he’s aware, he decides to have fun with it.

“No? What about this?” He asks, and licks a wet stripe from the crease of Zook’s ass, over his hole, and right up to the line of his balls.

Zook makes a noise eerily similar to the one that Schmidt makes when he’s got his arm twisted behind him because he’s said some dumb shit and needs to get put into place. The noise is almost like that, only one thousand percent sexy because it’s fucking Zook and the reason he’s damn near squealing is because of the way Brad affects him.

The muscles in the leg that Brad is holding up by the knee engage and he looks behind him to see that Zook is curling his fucking toes. When Zook speaks, his voice is raw.

“Dude, if you’re allowed to call T then I am too. You… can’t keep doing what you’re doing, alright? Not right now, not tonight. We’re so close, man. We have to get this show on the road.”

Brad props himself up on his elbows and looks at the _state_ Zook is in, and he understands. His eyes are dark and deadly serious but he’s flushed briiiiiight red. The reddest Brad has seen him tonight. His hands are clutching the sheets again and his dick is so hard that his little head is almost pointed directly at his actual one.

He nods, agreeing with Zook. Now is not the time to veer off course. One last time couldn’t hurt though, so he drops his head back down and gives Zook a chaste kiss, right like he’d just been told off for doing. Before Zook can protest, Brad pops back up, play-acting like the sad half of those two masks that every single theater kid seems to have on a t-shirt.

“Another time then,” He says with an overly dramatic sigh. “Can I get that coconut oil?”

“I thought you’d never ask, man.” Zook hands the jar beside him down to Brad and then lies back down on the pillows. “Do you have like… any idea about what you’re about to do? Like have you seen a dude get fingered before?”

“Never, but it can’t be that much different from a girl?” Brad is good at improv, it comes with being an Undercover, so he thought he would just make it up as he went along. Judging by the way Zook snorts, it’s very different.

“We’re gonna play hot and cold, okay? Men have this like… dandelion head of nerves up their asses that feels like ecstasy if you can find it and get at it at a good angle.” Again, here’s Zook explaining shit _so_ patiently to him. What a guy.

He dips his fingers into the oil and lets go of Zook’s knee, using the hand to spread Zook open instead. He draws a gentle circle in oil around Zook’s hole, feeling the way he shivers at the touch.

“You’re still cold but you’re getting warmer,” Zook says, keeping himself relatively chill. It’s a dare, really, a call to action. Brad uses the tip of his index finger first, testing to see how much give the ring of muscle has, trying to gauge how much force to use to push past it. Zook makes a noise like he’s just smelt his favorite food, somewhere between yum and a groan.

Taking that as a sign of encouragement, Brad puts a little more pressure behind his finger and then it happens, the muscle yields. He sinks his finger in slowly, in somewhat of a daze as he watches and feels Zook around him.

“Mmmm, warmer... warmer warmer warmer.” Zook repeats it like a prayer as Brad goes knuckle deep. “Now you gotta search, dude. Curl your finger.”

It’s _wild_ that this is happening, and looking down at where his hand meets Zook’s body and only seeing four fingers makes a hot flush explode across his skin. He does as told, waiting for Zook’s guidance; adjusting after each correction.

“Cold, cold, warm, lukewarm, cold… jesus motherfucking Christ, hot, hot hot hot hot. So hot. Fucking hell.” Words stream out of Zook’s mouth and his whole body kind of jumps at the touch. Brad rubs his finger over the spot he found again, and this time Zook’s head falls back like he doesn’t have the strength to keep it up.

“Another finger,” he manages to say, and so Brad lets his middle finger join his index finger in its slow glide in and out of Zook. He could literally sit and do this for an hour, a day, a week, studying the way he can make Zook twitch and vocalize with the right movement. It’s really fucking hot that this dude -- this football champion teammate of his – is like this for him. Brad’s been on the edge for like a fucking century at this point, and the current task at hand (was that a pun? Yes.) is not something that’s gonna help prolong the situation.

“Can we, uh,” He starts to talk, not really concentrating on the words coming out of his mouth, pretty much totally preoccupied with what’s in front of his face. “Condom?” he finally manages, saying all he needs to in a single word.

Zook props himself up with a massive amount of effort… he makes noise and a face at the same time when Brad pulls his fingers away.

“It’s for the greater good, dude. Do you have a condom nearby or should I get up and get one?”  He asks, sitting up, kneeling on the bed between Zook’s legs now.

“Yeah man, right in the cupboard under here,” Zook tells him, pointing weakly at his nightstand. He starts to roll over to grab it himself but Brad stops him, pressing his hips back down on the bed.

“You stay put, man.” He moves up the bed and over Zook, making sure to brush against his dick as much as possible… It’s radiating heat, he must be really fucking close, which is just as well because Brad’s been there, done that. Zook wraps his arms around Brad and digs his fingers into his skin, giving him a squeeze and a half.

“Bro, I am so excited,” he whispers to Brad while he retrieves the condom. Brad stops his search and looks back at Zook.

“Me fucking too, man.” He says with the most childish giggle. He feels kind of like a child, like it’s Christmas morning and he’s about to open the biggest present under the tree.

Then his fingers hit that familiar foil package and he’s leaning back on his shins, tearing it open immediately. He rolls it down onto his dick and Zook is watching him with his teeth sunk so hard into his bottom lip Brad actually worries it will bleed.

Now ready to have some super safe sex, Brad settles between Zook’s legs and presses himself down so that the head of his cock can rub thick and hot against Zook’s hole. It’s obscene, filthy, explicit, all of those words. Before he makes a move though, he leans down and kisses Zook, all tongue and shared breath.

He feels Zook’s hand on his, urging him to press forward. He does, and Zook starts to breathe like they’re forty minutes deep into a leg day workout. He feels fucking great around Brad’s dick, tight and hot and unrelenting. Once he’s all the way in, he lets out the breath he didn’t know he was keeping prisoner in his lungs.

“Fuck, man, this is… really… This is. Wow. We are… Fuck.” Brad says stupidly, but Zook wraps his arm around Brad’s neck and pulls him down so they can drag their mouths together.

“Yeah we are. Move,” Zook says before licking at Brad’s lips. Never wanting to deprive Zook of what he wants, Brad does. He draws his hips back slow and then drives right back in. Zook’s hand slips from his neck to his back and he really takes hold, digging his fingers in hard enough that they’re definitely going to bruise.

“More,” Zook says against him, and so Brad goes again, again and again, starting to develop a pace. They’re both starting to sweat, but Zook’s eyebrow is furrowed in a way it definitely shouldn’t be. He doesn’t look like he’s having as much fun as Brad is and that is a Problem. Brad slows the roll of his hips almost to a dead stop.

“What’s wrong, man?” He asks, and Zook tries to re-adjust.

“It’s like, not like... the right angle?” He answers, his eyes on Brad’s mouth. Now, this is something that doesn’t happen frequently, Brad can admit, but when it does, it’s great. He has an idea.

“Can I try something?” He asks Zook, who nods immediately. There’s so much trust there and he was about to break it in like six hours. Well, technically, he was breaking it right now, had been breaking it this whole time, so… why not make the best out of a bad situation and carry on?

Brad grabs hold of underneath Zook’s knee again and lifts up until it’s at the same angle he had it at when he was using his mouth and fingers. Then, he tries again.

The difference is immediate, Zook’s eyes pop wide open and a noise is born in the back of his throat that dies before it reaches his mouth.

“Fucking… do that… again...” Zook has a little difficulty stringing the words of the sentence together but Brad gets the overall picture. It feels more right this way, watching Zook twitch and jerk and moan each time he thrusts in, and it’s motherfucking hot that it’s _his_ dick that’s doing it to him.

Brad knows he’s not gonna last long so he reaches down between them, smoothing the pearl of pre-cum down Zook’s shaft. His hand moves easily because of the coconut oil and they develop a rhythm of their hips that rolls like a wave.

Zook cums like that, with Brad’s cock deep inside of him, with Brad’s hand around him. This time he hits his own heaving chest. Brad fucks Zook through it and then his own orgasm hits him like a ton of bricks. Like two tons of bricks. He goes still and Zook grabs his ass, trying to pull him in as much as humanly possible.

“Fucking yeah, man, feels so good like this,” He growls, and Brad kind of collapses down on top of him, finding the last bit of energy he has and using it to bring his mouth to Zook’s neck.

They lay like that for a moment, just catching their breath together. Brad slowly inches out of Zook, pulls the condom off, and tosses it in the trash right by the side of Zook’s bed.

He returns to the position they had been in, half on top of Zook, his lips against his collar bone.

“Dude,” he mumbles, and Zook’s hands wrap around his waist.

“Dude,” he responds.


End file.
